


Doghouse

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [4]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and suspicion</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doghouse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt left on tumblr’s otpprompts - [Imagine Person A of your OTP is suddenly acting sneaky and suspicious and Person B thinks they are cheating. Person B blows up at Person A but finds out Person A has not been cheating; they have been planning a surprise for Person B the whole time.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/93986265683/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-is-suddenly-acting)

Richard slowly awoke to the sounds of movement in the hotel room; whilst this was not wholly unusual, given that he always shared both room and bed with Paul, the furtive nature of the other man‘s movements was unusual, however. It sounded almost, to Richard, as though Paul was in the midst of an attempt to sneak out of the room before Richard even awoke.

A slight frown passed across Richard’s face at that, as finally, slowly, he opened his eyes, the last vestiges of sleep dropping away from him like the dregs of a a good night gone wrong. He blinked into the light that streamed through a slight gap in the curtains where they hadn’t been drawn across the window properly; he could see the vague drift of dust motes arching across the sliver of morning light. He checked the clock and saw that it was barely past seven in the morning, and neither one of them should have been required until the afternoon, at the latest. 

He shifted slightly and saw that Paul was at the wardrobe, slowly, carefully buttoning up his shirt; Richard was surprised to see that the other man was almost fully dressed. Richard’s frown grew deeper and his suspicion became more profound; he wondered why Paul had found it incumbent to creep around and to leave their room at such an early hour. 

“Paul?” Richard asked, and his voice sounded sleepier than he felt right then, as though some parts of his body had yet to catch up with his brain. 

Paul startled visibly, hands missing his button-hole so that he grappled slightly with his collar. Then Paul stopped, regained his composure, before he turned to glance hastily over his shoulder. That Paul was guilty about something was obvious; it was there to see in his eyes, the soft set of his mouth, the rigid by contrast hunch of his shoulders. 

“What are you doing, Paul?” Richard asked, as he sat up wearily, and cupped a yawn behind a swiftly raised hand.

“Getting ready,” Paul replied, and his tone was as guilty as his expression. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Richard said, dryly as he eyed Paul warily. “Why are you looking like that, though?”

“Like what, Reesh?” Paul asked, and at least he had the good grace to look genuinely baffled by Richard's question.

“Like you’re guilty of something,” Richard said. 

“I look nothing of the sort, Reesh,” Paul said, and at least his grin looked genuine now. 

Richard wondered then if perhaps he hadn’t imagined it, after all; Paul had started to move around the room in much the same way as he ever did, full of happy smiles and sunshine, every movement effortless and spontaneous. It seemed as though the other man’s previously sneaky behaviour had been merely Paul’s attempt to keep quiet, yet why he’d gone to such lengths when he’d never bothered about things like that before puzzled, even worried, Richard. 

Despite lingering suspicion, Richard put the matter far from his mind, which was further aided by Paul’s sunny suggestion of sharing breakfast and enough coffee to lay out a donkey each. 

:::

Later that day, Richard noticed Paul deep in conference with Till; their gazes darted about furtively as though both men were discussing something private. In all the time that they’d been in the band together, Richard could not remember a time when Paul had looked so downright suspicious, every movement jumpy and riddled with secondhand guilt. Even the way that Paul fiddled with the hem of his shirt was unlike him, as though his conscience was weighed down by nervous guilt, which came out through his fingertips to worry at the closest thing to them.

When Paul hurried away from Till, leaving the older man alone for one brief moment. Richard took it upon himself to approach Till himself. 

‘What was that all about?” he asked, almost wincing at the suspicion that darkened his tone and made it heavier than normal.

“What was what?” Till asked, with a predictable shrug as he shook his head at Richard.

“Don’t give me that. I meant Paul,|” Richard said and he couldn’t stop the sudden irritation from slipping into his voice at that. “He's acting very suspicious.”

“He was just asking me about the show tonight. We haven’t performed in over a year, don‘t forget,” Till said. “Unlike some.”

He stared at Richard unflinchingly; it was Richard who looked away first, unable to quite meet Till’s silent judgment head on. That his side project did not sit comfortably with those in his main band was never lost on him, yet he didn’t have to be comfortable with the situation. It was not as if he allowed Emigrate to take his attentions away from Rammstein; during Rammstein’s inevitably frequent down-times, Richard always found that he had to fill his time and his mind with something. It was either create or become lost to negativity. 

Till merely grunted when Richard did not immediately respond and walked away, which gave Richard even less chance to think of something with which to reply. 

::::

Richard couldn’t help but notice that Paul seemed to purposefully keep a distance from Richard for the remainder of the day; whilst he could count one hand how many times he caught sight of other members of Rammstein during any given day, to not see much of Paul was unusual. 

As the day grew older, so Richard‘s hurt irritation grew. He wondered whether he’d upset Paul in some way and Paul was simply avoiding him because of it. Richard thought over the preceding few days, yet he could not think of anything that could have dampened Paul’s spirits in any way; Richard even thought that the day before, Paul had been his usual sunny self. Despite this, his growing irritation made Richard doubt his own memories. 

Richard finally managed to catch Paul, just as the other man came out of the backstage bathroom; Paul was already wearing his lederhosen, yet his skin was still clean. Despite his anger, Richard couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding over Paul’s body; even though he wasn’t entirely sold on the whole lederhosen look, Richard had to admit that Paul made the outfit look good and the extra flesh on show never went amiss with him.

Paul seemed amused, some of the old warmth inherent in his face and smile, slight crinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes as he stared at the obviously ogling Richard. Paul’s expression cleared a little when Richard transferred his gaze from the other man’s body to his face and Richard wondered whether he’d even seen the expression there at all.

“Is there something you wanted, Reesh, or are you going to stare all night?” Paul asked, and there was that old, familiar teasing back in his voice and face again.

“I wouldn’t mind staring a while longer,” Richard said, and received the expected deep chuckles from Paul. “But yeah, there is something I wanted to ask, actually. I wanted to know whether you wanted to have a drink or something after the show.”

Richard wasn’t even certain as to why he’d even asked that; it hadn’t been the first thought in his mind, after all. He couldn’t help but feel hope suddenly, hope that Paul might accept and prove that that day had been little more than Richard’s over-active imagination. Paul’s face suddenly closed off, his usual happy grin replaced by a blank unreadable mask. Richard felt some of the hope die in him, replaced by the sour feel of potential rejection. 

“I’ve got something planned after the show,” Paul said, evasively, before he cut off his own sentence a little abruptly.

“Oh?” Richard prodded anyway, even though he suspected that the other man might remain silent. 

Paul merely nodded and said no more. Richard sighed, and that one noise conveyed every single emotion that had built up within him over the course of the day. He was about to say something when Schneider arrived, drumsticks already in hand and excitement on his lips; his arrival caused Richard to turn away from Paul. By the time that he looked back, Paul had already gone; Richard couldn‘t help but feel a stab of disappointment lance through him at that.

“What’s up?” Schneider asked, obviously having picked up on Richard’s discomfort. 

“I dunno. Does Paul seem different to you?” Richard asked, despite the fact that he felt a little uncomfortable even asking the question. 

“Different? No. Why?” Schneider asked, with a shrug and a puzzled frown.

“He seems more distant somehow. like he doesn’t want to spend any more time with me than absolutely necessary,” Richard replied.

“Sounds like someone’s in the dog-house,” Schneider said, with a laugh.

“It’s not funny. It’s fucking uncomfortable, is what it is. No less so that I don’t even know what it is I’m even supposed to have done,” Richard said, before a sudden thought struck him. :Jesus Christ, what if he’s found someone else?”

“Now, I really doubt that,” Schneider said and his laugh was more raucous and disbelieving that time.

“I’m serious,” Richard said, with a scowl in the other man’s direction. “I think he’s cheating on me.”

“Well, ask him about it, then,” Schneider said, and he sounded a little exasperated to Richard.

“I can’t do that,” Richard scoffed. “How the hell do you even broach a subject like that anyway? Excuse me, Paul, but are you cheating on me?”

Schneider snorted at that, yet Richard was glad that at least he wasn’t laughing outright, anymore.

“Now that you put it like that, it does sound kind of ridiculous,” Schneider agreed. “I'll ask him if you want.”

“And make me look like a coward? No thanks,” Richard said, with a snort of derision. "I have to be the one to ask him, I guess.,”

Richard fell into a moody silence at that and didn’t even notice when Schneider finally slipped away on quiet feet.

::::

Paul was noticeable by his absence after the show, and Richard drank alone, downing beer and whiskey until his head felt numb and unreal. He returned to the hotel room and went to bed alone. He fell into a sleep so deep that he was barely even aware of Paul slipping into bed an hour later, careful not to disturb the sleeping man.

::::

The next morning, Richard was once again awoken by Paul’s furtive movements in their bedroom. He sighed and shielded his sensitive eyes from the light that streamed in through the seemingly perpetual gap in the curtains; his head felt as though it had been stomped and trampled by a herd of elephants in the night. 

“Stop creeping, Landers,” Richard growled when it became obvious that Paul hadn’t noticed that he was even awake yet.

There was a guilty silence at that, before Paul spoke.

“Hey, Reesh. I didn’t know you were awake,” he said, and even Paul’s voice sounded guilty.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that one out, for myself, thanks,” Richard said, yet he had to wince himself at the amount of sarcasm in his tone.

“Are you aright? You don’t seem yourself, today,” Paul asked, and his words were suddenly tinged with genuine concern.

Somehow that concern made Richard’s hurt and anger all the worse and his temper flared suddenly.

“That’s rich coming from you,” he said, as he cracked his eyes open to glare balefully at Paul.

Paul’s look of genuine confusion was worth a million Euros in Richard’s opinion. 

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Paul asked, and the confusion and alarm was strong in his tone.

“All this sneaking about that you’ve been doing the past couple of days,” Richard said. “Getting up before me, aiming to sneak out before I’ve even woken up, avoiding me during the day. You won’t even drink with me anymore. Are you cheating on me? Who is she? Or he?”

“What the fuck? Reesh, I’m not cheating on you,” Paul said, and Richard could tell that the man wasn’t lying. “Fucking hell, that really hurts, man. I never would do that to you. You know that. Or I thought you did.”

Richard had to concede that Paul had never once indicated that he’d wanted to cheat or even look at anyone else. That had been Richard’s trick when first they’d started dating; in time, Richard had settled down, and learnt to be content with Paul alone. He couldn't even remember the last time that he’d even thought about looking at anyone else, let alone followed in the footsteps of his behaviour of years gone past.

“What the hell have you been up to, then? Because everything seems to indicate you don’t want me any more,” Richard said.

“I do want you. I’ve never stopped loving you once,” Paul said, and there seemed to be genuine anger building up now, anger that could only ride on the back of truth. “Jesus Christ, Reesh; I’ve never once strayed and you can’t even trust me this once? You know what? Fuck you. I’m not listening to this.”

“Paul, don’t,” Richard shouted as he slid from beneath the covers, and grabbed wildly at Paul’s arm before the other man even had a chance to leave.

Paul’s arm stiffened beneath his touch yet he made no effort to move; instead, he remained held in place, stiff, unyielding, jaw working with his anger.

“Please, listen to me,” Richard said, and tried to at least keep his tone gentle, if nothing else. “Why have you been avoiding me? What’s behind all the sneaking about, if you’re not seeing someone else?”

Paul for one moment looked as though he didn’t want to provide an answer. Some of the tension suddenly left his body and his shoulders slumped; that one gesture made him look older, and more tired than he should have done. There was genuine hurt in the other man’s eyes, hurt that didn’t make it to his mouth; instead, his lips formed an angry line. That Richard had made Paul genuinely angry surprised him, and convinced him that not all was as it seemed with the other man. He loosened his hold on Paul’s arm and was glad to note that Paul made no attempt at stepping away; instead, he remained where he was, staring up at Richard with overly wounded eyes and angry mouth. 

“Paul?” Richard asked, and he almost winced at the sadness in his tone.

“How could you?” Paul spat at him. “When all I was doing was trying to fucking buy you a birthday present.”

“A what?” Richard asked, in surprise. 

“A birthday present. You know, those weird things you give people on their birthdays,” Paul said, and there was the sarcasm that Richard always associated with Paul’s anger. “Lord knows you’ve missed enough of mine.”

“I’m sorry, Paul,” Richard said, and he suddenly felt guilty.

That emotion seemed to wash through him in a hot wave of pain and shame, stripping everything away until it seemed as though was nothing left but sadness. 

“I didn’t know,” he said, when the silence stretched out for too long between them.

“Too right you didn’t,” Paul said. “Now if you'll excuse me. I don't want to be around you right now.”

“I’m sorry, Paul,” Richard repeated, yet still he had to watch as Paul walked away and left the room, slamming the door after him.

:::

Paul didn’t return to Richard’s side until later that morning. Richard was alone in the bar once more, when he felt someone slide onto the stool next to his. He glanced over, ready to tell his visitor to leave him alone, when he realised that his visitor was Paul. Paul couldn't quite meet his gaze, guilt stamped liberally across his face.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, not you,” Paul finally said, to break the silence. “I shouldn’t have made it so obvious that something was up.”

“You could have done it a bit better,” Richard said, and there was no anger in his tone, merely accepting resignation. “And I’m still sorry for ever doubting you.”

Paul gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye, a wry smile on his lips.

“You should be at that,” he said, finally as a genuine grin suddenly broke across his face. “I don’t cheat.”

“I know,” Richard said, knowing that he didn’t have to say how good a man Paul actually was. “Unlike me.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You haven’t done that in a long while,” Paul said, having long since come to terms with Richard‘s former behaviour.

Richard grunted and waved for the bartender. He bought Paul a drink and once they’d arrived, they took their glasses to a corner booth, where they could have privacy. As soon as Paul sat down, he slid a pair of keys across the table towards Richard, an almost shy smile on his face.

“What's this?” Richard asked, yet he didn’t immediately move to take the keys.

“Your present,” Paul said. “I know it’s too early for your birthday, but call it a reconciliation gift, more than anything else.”

“A reconciliation - you don't have to do that,” Richard said and he wasn’t sure which version of the gift he was objecting to., “A car is too much, Paul.”

“No, it isn’t,” Paul insisted, gently. “You've been wanting an Aston Martin for ages, haven't you? I had the chance of snapping one up at a decent price and took it. Till was the one who actually told me about it.” 

“Jesus, Paul you shouldn’t have done that,” Richard repeated, even as his fingers twitched towards the keys.

Paul slid them further towards him until the cool metal of the keys butted up against the pads of Richard’s fingertips.

“Don't argue with me, Reesh, just take it,” he said, and the weariness was back in his tone once more. 

Richard picked the keys up and stared at them for so long, Paul shifted in his seat.

“A thank you would be nice,” he said, without any real rancour.

He was grinning when Richard glanced his way, and Richard couldn't help but return the grin. The preceding two days made a sudden kind of sense to Richard; his suspicion, anger, and distrust were stripped away beneath the genuine nature of Paul's grin. Richard leant in impulsively, and pressed a heated kiss against Paul’s still smiling mouth. He pressed harder until Paul responded, mouth softening and moulding against his own in the sweetest kiss Richard had had in a while. He propped his hand on the back of Paul’s head, and deepened the kiss, glad for the fact that Paul allowed it and didn't even attempt to pull away or protest. When Richard finally eased away, Paul was grinning again.

“Yeah, that just about covers it,” Paul said, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Don’t you even want to see your car? Give it a test drive maybe?”

Richard didn't even need to answer; his body did that for him, as he stood hurriedly and grabbed his coat. Paul was laughing by the time that they settled their bill and left.

::::

The Aston Martin was better than Richard could have imagined and drove like a dream. Paul looked more relaxed by the time that they returned to the hotel; Paul’s hand was warm and relaxed against Richard‘s, as he laced his fingers through the other man‘s, body pliant when Richard pulled the smaller man into a tight, almost possessive, hug. Paul’s head was a warm weight against his shoulder, and Richard was glad that the other man did not complain nor move away.

“Don’t you do that to me again, Landers,”” Richard muttered against the top of Paul’s head. “Don’t fucking scare me like that ever again.”

“I won’t,” Paul said, before he fell silent.

It seemed to Richard that there was more that Paul had wanted to say, yet had refrained from doing so at the last minute. Despite Paul’s pointed silence, Richard knew what hung still between them; Richard’s one-time infidelity was still on the forefront of Paul’s mind, even though the other man had learnt forgiveness in later years. 

Richard now knew how it must have felt for the other man when Richard had looked to other people for comfort and was glad that Paul was not one to lay guilt trips in his path. Still, Richard felt as though he had to say something.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, and he knew the sentiment to be true.

“I didn’t think you would,” Paul said, and there was an unexpected tenderness in his eyes as he met Richard's gaze head-on.

It was as though all the doubt and suspicion of previous years had been finally stripped away and perhaps they had. Richard leant in to press a kiss against Paul's mouth, glad for the fact that Paul responded easily, hand resting gently against Richard’s butt. Once the kiss had ended, Richard pulled far away enough so that he could speak.

“Come up to the bedroom. I want to thank you properly,” he said, with a wink and what he hoped was an inviting smile.

He wasn’t sure whether it was or not, yet it seemed to work on Paul.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Paul said, with a grin that made his eyes disappear in a mass of happy crinkles.

Richard laughed out loud at that, yet neither spared any time in retreating to their bedroom. It didn’t take them long to strip, to lay together on their bed, and for Richard to prepare the other man; Paul’s body was a warm line of forgiving acceptance, hands a caressing weight against Richard's body, mouth a heated line of gentle kisses against his skin. And when Richard's body joined with Paul’s, it was as if the past couple of days hadn't happened at all; their love-making was slow, and surprisingly tender and Richard lost himself to the man beneath him. 

When finally he came, it was with a whisper of Paul’s name on his lips, a declaration of love and an apology for ever doubting the other man; in turn, he held Paul through his own climax, hands a caressing weight upon Paul’s body as he came apart against Richard. Finally, they were still, silent, resting in each other’s arms and there was no need for anything more to be said; it was there in every glance, every smile, every soft kiss and carefully placed caress. For that, Richard was glad and he knew that those small silent gestures that spoke more than words ever could were there to stay.


End file.
